The Smell of Orange
by BlackDragonDiva
Summary: Sasuke is rendered powerless by a fierce jutsu, one that confuses his mind and inhibits his rationale. When Naruto finds him at the mercy of the Akatsuki will the blonde have the strength to help him through his sorry state, or will he die alone?
1. The Smell of Orange

The Smell of Orange

By: Black DragonDiva

Publishing Date: 12/26/05

Spoilers: up to Valley of the End

Summery: Sasuke is rendered powerless by a fierce jutsu, one that confuses his mind and inhibits his rationale. When Naruto finds him at the mercy of the Akatsuki will the blonde have the strength to help him through his sorry state, or will he die alone, weeping in the name of mercy?

* * *

Chapter One: The Smell of Orange

* * *

It smelled of the color orange. It was sour and sweet, warm, round and smiling. 

He had never smelled anything so... _beautiful_ before.

He kept his eyes closed as he inhaled, blocking out the sights around him and focusing entirely on the smell that caressed him like warm water. He sighed in a brief moment of contentment, his breath fouling the sweetness of the air with a murky scent similar to smoke. He inhaled deeply through his nose and held his breath; every smell, including his own breath, which dared to suppress the orange-color smell, did not deserve to exist. Even as he did it, however, it seemed to shrink away, as though afraid it had offended him by being so unlike the darker scent of his body. He bit his lip, his brow furrowing as he swallowed a whimper of apology. He ignored the quiet request to his diaphragm that reminded him he needed to breathe at least once every 60 seconds. He leaned forward instead, struggling to bury his nose in the scent just once more before it left him forever. He failed pitifully. He wanted to cry, but his eyes were still closed and dry, his body unwilling to sacrifice liquid, of which he was in short supply. Besides, he hadn't cried in so many years, close to fifteen, and doing it now, in the face of death, was not honorable.

The man was rewarded for his efforts just deftly. A single, faint breath of the pleasant smell came back to him, slithering over his lips and cheek.

Disappointed that it had not stayed longer, but sated, he leaned back. The stone wall had quickly cooled in the absence of his body's heat and his bare back met with frigid cold. He flinched, but bore through it. Chains rattled, high and grating, a sound better suited to crying along side broken hearts. He rattled them slightly, feeling them chaff against the skin on his wrists.

Slowly, reluctantly, he opened his eyes once more, as he had millions of times. But never had they been so useless to him.

Everything was black, soft and velvety and mockingly comforting to him. He remembered when he used to like the darkness, how soothing it used to be. Now it was the instrument that slowly drew him to his own demise. Silver bit into thin, sharp-edged things, but defined nothing and was too faint to be of any use. From above the chains, the silvery light slipped chastely through a fist-sized hole, the glow from a low-burning candle coupled with it off to his right, but not helping his eyes.

He shifted, the sharp bits of gravel digging into his thighs and the heels of his feet as he drew them into a more comfortable, splay-legged position. His back itched against the warming stone and his wrists, arms, and shoulders ached from the chains strapped to the juncture of his hands and wrists to keep him in place and immobile. Not that he would have the energy to move if they were removed.

He struggled to flex his fingers, to try to get them to become less stiff and painful. The tough gloves that ensnared them did not permit this action and they remained splayed and cramped. He bit back a slight shiver at the stray, chill breeze that slithered in through the small hole in the wall. The candle flickered, threatened to go out, and then stilled, smaller and sicklier than before.

* * *

"_So you thought you could run away, did you, Sasuke-kun?" The voice was deep, raspy, and oddly amused._

"_You really think you could defeat your brother at your pathetic level of strength?" There was a smirk on that sharp, pale face, dark palomino eyes glinting. _

_Sasuke refused to tremble in his pain, refused to grimace at the agony that sapped at his strength and composure, that bit into his tattered body. He stood instead, albeit shakily, but stood, and cursed his own weakness, cursed the one who stood before him, cursed everything that had ever gotten in his way. He cursed Naruto, cursed Sakura and Kakashi. But most of all, he cursed his brother. Fucking Itachi._

_Before his knees could stop their shaking, borne of strain, he found himself back on the ground, pushed there by a force he didn't bother to turn and look at. A hand pressed to his shoulder and throat. Then, everything went dark._

_Fucking Orochimaru. _

_

* * *

_

There was a voice, out there somewhere, one he vaguely thought he knew. Not that it mattered. He knew no friendly voice, only enemies. They'll leave him to die. Better yet, they would kill him. But his mind was drunken and hazed with starvation. He couldn't recognize it.

He was here though, and here he would stay. Here, where he was so close to his ultimate goal, but it still lie so far away, still unattainable and lit under a different light than the one he stood under. He was left to himself, the candle and sometimes a chill breeze his only company. The cool, damp room had left him cold and clammy, his skin hot with fever and his insides as cold as a rock at the bottom of an icy lake, the water sharp and painful.

A bead of sweat rolled down his bare torso, stopping only when it reached the hem of his ripped and thready shorts. He didn't have the strength, or maybe it was his pride that kept him from doing so, but there was a hiss deep in his throat that was never set to sound as another salty drop licked a wound, washing away the dust and grim in it, yet making it sting. Still another, final drop was creeping down his lithe chest, caressing hard-earned lines borne of many years of rough physical training. It settled comfortably on his stomach, nestled between two powerful abdominal muscles. His skin felt every slight of movement almost painfully well. The sensitivity was driving him mad.

He distantly heard something high pitched, like the breaking of glass over still more glass, then a guttural sound, and something not unlike air running swiftly over uncomfortable cloth. His mind tried to clear, to understand the sounds and trembling stone against his skin, but he was struggling well enough just to remain conscious.

The building shuddered, making a sharp bit of stone dig harshly into his back, and from the warm trickle, drawing blood. If he tried, he might be able to carve his name into the flesh that way. He didn't know why the thought crossed his mind, but somewhere it was both amusing and stupid.

He hung his head, black locks coming to frame his face, limp and oily from lack of proper cleaning for too long.

He relaxed against his prison, ignoring the pain in his body, the fire in his flesh, and sunk away from the world.

* * *

Faintly, he could smell orange. 

When Sasuke woke, the first thing he noticed was that the candle had burned out, that smoke and something else, something thick and cement-like clung to the air that was swept into his lungs.

Next, as he opened his eyes, he noticed the sunlight was nearly gone from the hole above him, inferring that was nearly dusk. The red-pink-orange-grayish blue light did nothing in helping his eyes to comprehend the shapes around him.

He lifted his head slowly, lethargically, listening to the dim cracking of a dozen bones in his back that roared like thunder in his ears. He flexed his powerful shoulders weakly, earning still more splintering sounds. He blinked slowly as he slumped again, letting the chains pull on his weight. He couldn't feel the pain very much anymore.

It was only then, as his eyes took in the floorspace before him, that he noticed a bitter stain from fluorescent lights far in front of him, making the fuzzy bits in his eyes shift faster and sting. In that light were two feet poised inside the doorway, thankfully blocking out most of the light.

Slowly, painfully, he lifted his head again, further this time, dull, gray eyes struggling to focus on the bobbing, blurry shape before him. It was speaking, to him or to another, he didn't know, because he couldn't even read its lips and could hear very close to nothing, just a thrum of words. He heard something though, and after a few seconds his mind said it was something like '-sama' and 'prisoner'. He blinked slowly, then felt footsteps, which mingled with a larger hum of movement, accented only by its rhythm. The rest was a shudder, like a child shivering in the cold, and surrounded him entirely, snaking into and around his body, nibbling at his core, prodding at his aches and pains.

A tall column of gray fabric came into view. It froze the instant it saw him and said something, but he couldn't make it out. Worse, he didn't care. Yes, he was an S-class missing-nin. Yes, he _was_ sitting in a dungeon, sitting against a filthy wall, chained with rusty metal, and totally, utterly subdued (fucking Jutsu). Yes, he was dying, so it'd be best to finish him off and get the bounty before his body completed its decomposition while he was still alive. If you hurry, it won't start to stink for another day, then you could just pour acid on the festering and probably maggot-infested wounds and kill the stench. Case closed. Now, where the fuck is your katana you shithead? Strangling is messy and disgusting, katana's are better.

His head lolled away slightly, weak from being held up for so long, and his impassive face hid the wince that it wanted to show from the painful crack at the base of his neck for the action. Even in death, he wouldn't let anyone see him in pain.

There was a murmur, then something louder, but unrecognizable, in the voice. There was a flurry of footsteps coming toward him and harsh growls bit on the side that he understood as orders. Hn, even if you tried, even if _he_ tried, Sasuke wasn't moving anywhere, wasn't going to do anything. Where the _fuck_ is your katana? Don't you know who I am! Uchiha Sasuke! One of the top ten wanted ninja known to shinobi in this day and age! Second only to my brother's terrorist organization and Orochimaru! Get your _goddamn _**katana!**

He felt cool hands against his skin, over his arms and shoulders, making him groan against the rawness of his throat as they skipped over wounds, kissing over bruised, ripped and chaffed skin. He dipped his head and shuddered at the cool fingers.

"Gods, Sasuke, what happened to you?"

The Uchiha fought a tightness in his throat, one his body refused to couple with tears to express his total anguish.

"Leave me to die. Gods, kill me." Was that his voice? He could speak? No, he couldn't even hear it, it was a thought tumbling through his turbulent and molasses-paced brain.

"Like hell, bastard."

He wanted those tears so badly. He wanted a wakasashi or kunai in his palm to thrust into his own panting chest.

_No, not him…_

_Not Naruto. _

_

* * *

_

AN: well, here's the first chapter to this story! its going to be VERY angsty, mostly Sasuke-centric, and CHOCK FULL OF SYMBOLISM. i'ma symbolism hoe, so sue me. :P if you can find all of them in this chapter i appaude your awesome symbolism-identification skills! put them in a review and i'll tell you if you got all of them!

anyway, i don't know how long this fic is going to be, probably shorter than the fics i normally write... maybe 15 chapters or so. beware of eeevilness later on because Sasuke's brain is _soo_ screwed over.

comments, flames, complaints, suggestions? stick it in a review and I'll get back to you.

J+


	2. Taste of Apples

The Smell of Orange

By: Black DragonDiva

Publishing Date: 1/21/06

Spoilers: up to Valley of the End

Summery: Sasuke is rendered powerless by a fierce jutsu, one that confuses his mind and inhibits his rationale. When Naruto finds him at the mercy of the Akatsuki will the blonde have the strength to help him through his sorry state, or will he die alone, weeping in the name of mercy?

**Disclaimer:** standard disclaimers apply.

Chapter Two: The Taste of Apples

There was so much _pain_. He could taste it on his tongue; bitter and dark, laced with white-hot. Every limb was numb, the bone itself infused with a steady, sharp pain. He felt his throat constrict, as though to make a sound, but too swollen, dusty and dry to push air over his tongue. He tried to breathe, struggling to force his lungs to continue working. His belly hummed with a groan as the soft wall that was beneath his stomach shifted and he met with grass in a gentle float. In earnest, he pushed against the soft, restricting cloth that bound his shoulders to immobility. He gradually moved through the ocean of softness with his left hand. Gods it hurt so _much_.

Pain raced up his arm, settling in a pool at his shoulder. He ignored it in favor of caressing the cool, firm earth beneath him. His hands could not flex still, but he felt the grass beneath exposed fingertips and the stiffness of the stalks through the glove on his palm. He sighed. It had been so long since he had felt the grass.

A fresh, clean breeze hovered over him, cool but comfortable. He took a deep breath and sighed. Distantly, he realized that the orange smell was close.

His mind was still sharp, yet filled with wool and the flesh of rotting sheep. But he did feel better, but for the gritty texture of his skin and hair, thanks to the air and the thought that he was out of his prison. However, that also meant he was further from his prize, but he would never be able to obtain it in his current state, if he ever did.

The place was not frightening as story-tellers gave dungeons to be, but uncomfortable and unbearably maddening. He was so _close_ to Itachi, and it made his heart and spirit sink when he realized he would die before even seeing his brother again, much less kill him. He was so fucking _close_, yet so damn _helpless_. He couldn't do _anything_ as he waited for his brother to return from the mission his buddies had told him he was carrying out and hopefully just kill his little brother, save him from the shame. But he had waited and waited. Nothing.

Gods damn that Orochimaru. If only Sasuke had been wearier, if only he hadn't taken up that lead that Itachi was somewhere near Rock Country, he wouldn't have gotten his ass handed to him by that strange nin. He was proud to say he had given as good as he took and the fucker was now very dead.

Just dragging himself back to Sound was self-inflicted murder. He was hoping to have merely amused Orochimaru with his escapade; the bastard was perverted like that, twisting things for his entertainment. But he didn't. Actually, that wasn't true, he _had _been amused, but thought the amusement wasn't worth what it had cost him, which was his position and the endangerment of all his cursed-seal lackeys. So he had abandoned Sasuke. Abandoned an _Uchiha_, left the _Sharingan_, to rot at the doorstep of the Akatsuki.

_Idiot. _

Fucking Snake.

Fucking Itachi.

Fucking _pride_.

Something sweet and wet trickled between his dry lips. His eyes fluttered open, refusing to focus before closing once more and letting him concentrate on the water gently dribbling into his mouth.

He drank deeply, disappointed when the container was pulled away from his lips. In a vain attempt to acquire more his tongue darted to his lips in search of stray droplets.

"Save some for the fish," came a dark grumble. Did he really hear that? No, he was deaf; he shouldn't be able to hear anything. His eyes strained to open, blinking gently against the dark backdrop that was the sky. Moonlight bit into his shifting irises, but he was too tired to give in to the urge to wince. Instead, he implored them to focus on the white and red face that was weaving in his vision, sometimes in and sometimes out. A second later it was gone, replaced with the darkness and silver speckles of the sky and shadowy tree branches overhead. It looked like a frog. Frog-people huh? Must be from Hidden Waterfall; those people were freaks.

In the distance he heard a quiet voice, nothing distinct, but smooth and deep and oddly comforting. He wasn't alone here. There was a rustle and he heard feet moving, on the other side of him the hiss of a kunai being slipped into a holster. He could only assume they were in a small clearing. There were at least two dozen people he could faintly sense, even in his degraded state, and since he could sense them at all declared that they were well-developed shinobi. He faintly smelled blood on some and perhaps a few dead bodies as well.

His back stiffened, pain nipping at him, as he realized he was surrounded by enemy nin and in no way capable of fighting _one_ off, much less all, should he need to escape.

An exhausted sliver of anger at his helplessness gripped his gut, warming the cool water that had settled there in a blissful state of peace. But he let it dissolve a moment later, however; anger would get him nowhere. Besides, he was ready to die however long ago that was, and he certainly was in no way able to be choosy. Death there or death here or death in a public execution, who cares? Death was death, whether it is now or later.

Thus, the Uchiha lie there, struggling to focus his ninja senses, even though he couldn't in his befuddled state of mind. Fever ravaged his body, working in time with a jutsu he couldn't fight (placed on him specifically for that purpose), much less dispel. Instead he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting the sensations of just being outside and semi-free again wash over him, his sudden super-sensitivity much appreciated. It didn't matter. At this rate he could never live up to Itachi's prowess; his brother would die of old age first. That was alright, he didn't care. All that mattered was this pain, and how much longer until it would be gone. All that mattered were these sensations, and how long he would be allowed to feel them.

He relaxed, letting himself sink into the ground and become comfortable. They should leave him here, these shinobi, he wouldn't mind letting the scavengers pick at his bones, eat his eyes and tongue. Especially his eyes. These damnable eyes.

Suddenly, he was aware of hands, strong cords of muscle tensing, and a powerful ripple of strength. Pain threatened to kill him, to save those hands the trouble.

Then, there was the orange scent again, but fuller than ever before, darker and less teasing, more like the naked woman in your bed rather than the flirting girl that let her hands whisper a grope over your ass. It was much better this way. His head started to pound and his moist throat complied with the pain verbally, a groan parting his pale lips. After that, everything was gentler as they hoisted him onto a back, and he knew it was the same person as it had been before that was carrying him.

It seemed forever before he felt them moving through the trees. But his sense of time and place were skewed, so he was not one to judge. Hell, he couldn't even tell which direction they were going in.

He relaxed into a steady beat of pain that pulsed with the powerful footsteps, his arms limp over strong shoulders. He was _so_ much more graceful that this stack of tough beef.

Sometime afterward he felt rain thumping against the hood he hadn't noticed on his head, sliding down his exposed arms and legs, chilling his impossible heat and adding to the iciness in his chest. There existed warmth only at his torso, where it rested against the back of his carrier, and under his knees, where elbows hooked to keep him secured.

He noted he was thirsty again.

He rested his head against the neck before him, strangely devoid of a hood. Water dripped from soft, wet hair the scent of soft apples and dark leaves. It felt like long cat hair, warm and dry under the wetness. At the smell his stomach twisted and he struggled not to give in to the thought that it was real and that there was food before his lips. Gods, he hadn't eaten in so _long_.

He heard someone talk to him, something about 'stop' and 'mutter' and 'apples', but his mind was too fuzzy, too starved, and too suppressed to fully understand what was happening. Damn jutsu. Gods, he was just so _hungry_.

There was an indignant yelp, but he ignored it for the scent of apples and orange and green and the taste of sweet, sweet water with something salty and powerful, but also so damnably sweet.

There was a voice and the head next to his chin turned slightly to breathe on his face. Something about 'let go-!' and '…ucking teeth… urt!' But Sasuke was content somewhere in his disembodied mind. He bit down harder, confused when the apple's flesh didn't give to his teeth. Instead, something metallic and bitter, not entirely unlike small, hard apples not yet ripe, pressed against his teeth and tongue, tinted with the flavor of hot Chakra. He released his jaws and his tongue darted out, his hunger overcoming the whimpy voice that said this was weird, that apples didn't rest against the necks of enemy ninja and certainly weren't dipped in Chakra. But he didn't care. If they were pissed at him for eating their apple then they should have killed him earlier. Or at least fed him.

* * *

He was on the ground again and not too pleased at being separated from the apple he had been nibbling at for what must have been an hour. Once more, it could have been two hours, two minutes, or a week for all he knew. What he did know was that no matter how often he bit the apple didn't run out. Once the tingle of Chakra began to irritate his tongue and throat he would move to another patch and return later, and by then it would be good as new.

He groaned slightly as his back met, more harshly this time than before, with the earth. He probably deserved it for eating all their apples.

It was still raining slightly, water tickling the corner of his unopened eyes and nose. He vaguely noticed when he was pushed upright, a bottle set to his lips, which was happily welcomed. The water didn't taste as sweet as it had the first time. It didn't give him that ache in his teeth like when he sucked on too many lemon drops. He really just wanted to finish his meal, not drink.

The container was pulled away so he could breathe and he turned his head slightly to show he wasn't thirsty. Where was his dinner? The fruit would give him strength.

There was a loud voice in front of him, yelling for something that sounded like 'provisions'. He was getting cold again.

The voice turned to him, speaking in an annoyed tone about how stupid his voice sounded. He shivered in response. He was starting to be grateful for the stupid jutsu. Apparently, he was talking. Who wanted to die without having said a word in something close to three months? Gods, was it even longer? How long had he been in that place? Days, weeks? He couldn't tell, he had slept too much, been blinded by too much pain, to notice how often the sun had set through the hole far above his head, to notice how many candles had been used to give wan light.

Then, there was something under his nose. It smelled stale and unpleasant. It was pressed against his lips, the voice growling softly about how it _knew_ he was coherent enough to bite. Did he hear laughter in the background? No, that was stupid. He turned his head a little, but it followed him. He opened his mouth reluctantly. Maybe it was poisoned? Gods, that would be a relief.

It was disgusting, like the chalky energy bars he remembered from missions. There was something bitter in the middle. Cyanide? No, it tasted like a vitamin. Yuck. He wanted to spit it out (where was his apple dammit!) but didn't. He couldn't summon the energy. He barely had the strength to swallow.

He heard the voice again, softer this time. He opened his heavy eyes, but saw nothing but a bright blur of silver-gold and darkness.

_Fucking jutsu._

"What?" Oh, he heard the word that time. His eyes blurred, swaying like a ship at harsh sea, and then went black. He was too weak for this shit.

"Its okay Sasuke. I'm going to help you."

He felt the warmth come back and he slept.

* * *

A/N: I wanted to thank everyone to reviewed this story! It's really wonderful to check one's mail and find that they have a review waiting for them with such encouraging comments. Thank you so much everyone!

Notes on this chapter: I think this one is much like the first in likeability. Sasuke's POV is just so cool when he's weak and screwed over by this jutsu. Sorry, I'm terrible. Otherwise, no real comments on this chapter. Just enjoy!


	3. Coherency?

The Smell of Orange

By: Black DragonDiva

Publishing Date: 12/26/05

Spoilers: up to Valley of the End

Summery: Sasuke is rendered powerless by a fierce jutsu, one that confuses his mind and inhibits his rationale. When Naruto finds him at the mercy of the Akatsuki will the blonde have the strength to help him through his sorry state, or will he die alone, weeping in the name of mercy?

* * *

Chapter Three: Coherency… ?

Naruto was scowling, the expression twisting his whisker marks and smooth lips. His narrow eyes added to the irritated look he was going for, long dark lashes enhancing the brightness of his eyes, bringing out the silvery strips of flaunted 'see but don't touch' prowess, that screamed 'deadly' to even his closest friends.

However, beneath his badly executed scowl was a glow that not even a stranger could miss. One of apprehension, of satisfaction and pride, shinning like the moon behind a thin cloud, its light spread as one struggled to suppress it.

Tsunade raised a brow at the blonde, her hands clasped tightly before her in both uneasiness and relief. The boy was alive, but at what cost? To escape the Akatsuki, and with a prize such as the one he had carried in on his back, had to have cost lives, forced sacrifices. The report lay at her elbows. She hadn't read it yet. No, instead she studied this man before her, noticing, not for the first time, how much he had grown over the long years. She observed how shinobi life had pulled at his essence, how other such things were killing him, tearing him apart from the inside as enemy nin tore him apart from the outside. She shoved the thoughts away forcefully; it was no time to be calculating his life span.

She picked up the report, reading through it carefully through tired eyes. Infiltration to the Akatsuki lair had been a success. Naruto had been 'imprisoned' for a total of 6 days as they prepared to extract the Kyuubi's essence from its chamber. He had been 'drugged', or so they thought. Even if Itachi's Mangekyu Sharingan had been cast upon it, the Uchiha would never have known it was a fluke, that _poisons_ effected Naruto not at all, much less a simple drug meant to render his Chakra useless. But by playing along he had studied his surroundings and sent messages to allied nin using seemingly senseless whistled tunes and coded laughter. Really, it was ingenious, using something as natural as the boy's own fluid laughter as a code that echoed through hallways and open windows to be caught by nin dogs, frogs, and other animals, who reported back to the group that was camped nearly two miles out, away from detection of the Akatsuki. The day before the Kyuubi was to be ripped from his body, Naruto and Co. struck, one of great power shredding the insides as nearly fifty Kohona ninja attacked in groups of five at different intervals along the compound, reducing its outside to rubble. The place collapsed nearly half a day later, taking all still trapped within down to a dusty grave. Among those lost were 8 still inside the lair, whose bodies were being recovered as she read the report. Also, anything pertaining to the Akatsuki was being detained, any dead or nearly living members hastily set to fire and ice and jutsu and fists, dying by the hands of determined soldiers.

Upon returning the night after the building had gone down in shambles Naruto and select members who were wounded headed back to Kohona for rest and observation. Tsunade cursed her inability to be there herself, but it was for the best. It was too risky, Naruto had told her, it'd be better if he went with select shinobi to take down the terrorists. So that is what happened. And be damned if the brat wasn't right. If she had been there Sasuke would be _dead_, not laying in a hospital bed hooked up to contraptions that monitored Chakra (or lack there of) flow, a catheter, an IV drip, a tube that thrust mushy semblances of food and vitamins into a shrunken stomach, a personal nurse (Tsunade's own disciple no less!) to care for and bandage his wounds. No, she would have killed him herself given the chance. But it would have been rash of her. In truth, she hated Kohona's third biggest threat for more than just his power. No, she hated him for his own hate, for his own disregard and lack of human compassion.

But his death wasn't the case. Naruto had brought him back, just as he had promised all those years ago. Because of this, the Hokage was pressed. She couldn't kill him; Naruto stood vigilantly over his prone form, and then pled his case personally. It was not something a shinobi was supposed to do. It was just like Naruto to be like that, the little stubborn brat.

Tsunade's eyes scanned the report again, searching for something she had missed. Naruto had been thorough this time, as he was every time, and left no loopholes for her to exploit. She sighed inwardly; she had lost her hate upon watching Naruto's face, so full of worry and anxiety, soft with compassion and something gentle as he watched Sasuke's chest rise and fall. Steady with breath. Steady with _life_. No doubt he had been listening to the Uchiha's heartbeat become stronger, steadier.

This time Tsunade did sigh out loud, just a little. She looked up at her soon-to-be successor. Two more years and he would sit at this desk. Would he one day be forced to make the choices she had? To pit friends against one another, baiting Death, luring shadows to snuff out their hopeful candles and darkness to clog their throats, slowly choking them, obscuring their senses until death stole away their souls, sucking out the breath of life that sat in their chests…

"How is his condition?" The deep tenor voice jarred her thoughts. She was staring at him as she thought, but now looked up to his face, where the voice had come from. It did a horrible job at suppressing the blonde's curiosity. There was no worry there; he knew Sasuke was alive, and it sated him… for now.

She took a moment to study him more closely, noting his ragged appearance. He was handsome even in his disheveled state, something beautiful about the feralness that clung to his body when he was so filthy and wet. Shaggy blonde hair was damp from the rain that, even now, continued to pour down outside her window, giving the room they occupied a haunting gleam. His skin was clammy-wet from it. The smooth, tan flesh glistened slightly from the wet and was… marred. She didn't ask about the love-bite on his neck; the blonde's sexual indulgences weren't her concern.

The Hokage took a deep breath, then released it quickly in relief that she wasn't feeling.

"He will be fine as far as I can tell. He was under a strange and powerful jutsu that tangled his senses. Shizune, Hyuuga Neji and myself have gotten them mostly straightened out by blocking certain passages and regulating his Chakra, but he's still very disorientated." She kept her face straight as she continued, but set her eyes to straightening papers instead of the man standing on the other side of her desk. "He kept muttering about apples, for example, but when we gave him some he said they tasted wrong, were too sweet and card-board-like." She scrunched up her nose in amusement, but minutely, she doubted Naruto noticed. "He kept smelling orange."

Naruto's hand stopped rubbing the marks on his neck that he had acquired the night before, willing them away. Kyuubi was too drained of Chakra to heal the simple bruising that littered his neck from unsuccessful attempts to get at his blood by Sasuke. Healing wounds that kept opening along Naruto's throat and on the muscle that connected his neck and shoulder for as long as he had, which was almost six, seven hours, plus the energy it had cost Naruto to do away with the Akatsuki, was draining even for the kitsune.

"Give him an orange then," he muttered. He wasn't a fucking _fruit_ dammit! An _apple_, what the hell?

"No," she shook her head a bit, straightening a stack of papers that had been thrust aside when she had put the book on genjutsu and psychological manipulation pertaining to it on her desk. "He smells the _color_ orange."

Naruto raised a brow, absently allowing his thumb to rove over the small 'hickeys' absently. They guys had laughed a little when they saw the results of Sasuke's endeavor and the reason for Naruto's sudden annoyance, which was embarrassing and enlightening. He hated it when ninja sank into themselves after a battle in which they had lost comrades, when the wound was still thick with salt concerning said deaths. He had just snorted and demanded that they kindly stop sniggering at him and get him provisions. They had fallen silent, but only after Sasuke had spoken, as to catch his words with Naruto.

'Fucking jutsu'. Now he knew. He received no more snickers after that. They moved out immediately after.

"Damn, the bastard _was_ pretty fucked up." She nodded, ignoring his lewd language, and sighed.

"I don't know what to do with him. He needs someplace familiar to help sort himself out. It may be several days or even weeks before he understands even simple things such as where he is or _who_ he is enough to talk to us about what happened, to help explain himself." She paused and looked up at Naruto, who didn't seem fazed by her words, if not for his sudden stillness. He seemed curious about the last part, but confident about it, because he ignored it for another matter.

"You want to take him back to the Uchiha mansion?" he asked skeptically.

"No, the place is a mess. It hasn't been tended to in a long time." She paused, heaving a huge, exhausted sigh as she pressed the fingers of one hand to her eyes to help relieve the ache that was beginning to form behind them. She sat back in her chair bonelessly. "It's been eight years."

Naruto said nothing as she pulled her hand away and stared him straight in the eye, as though weighing his potential.

"Naruto, I want you to take him."

There was a stillness in the air that wrapped around their hearts, even as the organs began to quicken their normally steady pace with uncertainty. Naruto shifted his weight onto one hip.

"Why?"

"I can't keep him here, it will cause too much trouble. I will tell the elders, but it will remain secret as to where he is until we can better assess his condition. A familiar face will help him and he needs an adequate guard. Who better than yourself?"

'Good question. He'll probably kill anyone else. Hell, he'll probably try to kill me too.' Naruto turned away from the sobering thought. Sasuke would be dead before he was coherent enough to think of killing _anyone_. Naruto would be careful to ensure it.

"Alright, hag."

* * *

When he awoke next, Sasuke immediately knew he wasn't in that painfully white room, where things prodded and beeped at him, suffocating his already boggled senses with pristine, disgusting purity. The smell had been sickening.

But now everything wasn't so strong, his nose less apt to find sharp, specific scents that addled his brain. He did, however, inhale, more relaxed as his normal, duller senses washed over him. He almost panicked when the smell of orange overwhelmed him, memories of those chains and that darkness and the candle blinding his brain. But when the scent did not fade in and out of his reach as it always had previously he remembered that the smell had been with him leaving that room, leaving to sweep into the clean, beautifully free and luscious forest. He bit back everything, the memories, the panic, the rage and, most of all, the taunt of past pain and helplessness. He was elated to discover that he _could_ do this, something that was impossible for an indefinable amount of time ago.

Carefully he peeled open eyes that were caked with fluid that was not his tears, or anything his body made for that matter, something synthetic and fake. He was, however, pleased to note his eyes focused. For the most part.

There was less pain now, which was centered mostly on his arms and shoulders and less so on the wounds that had been laid open, gaping and festering, over the expanse of his sticky, feverish body. The bandages on them itched against his clean skin that smelled of fresh soap and water. He expanded his senses further. The damn gloves hadn't been taken off and held his joints stiff. However, at one point the fingers had been rolled back and his joints flexed and cracked to relieve their ache. The joint locks had been replaced afterward.

He took a deep breath, relishing the clean, dry air that was so unlike that in the dingy, damp cell he had been tossed into, his chest rising against bandages and thick blankets that oozed warmth.

It all smelled… familiar. It was darker, duller than the orange and apple, but undeniably close to it, which is why his nose had probably thought it smelled the same scent from the Akatsuki lair. Impossible. No, this was close, but not quite it.

Black eyes focused on a chipped ceiling, where it looked like kunai and shuriken had been thrown into an odd pattern. If he squinted and tilted his head just so, the characters looked similar to the ones that made up his own name.

His mind suddenly swam with dizziness and he closed his eyes against the dull white-yellow of the ceiling. He focused on his limbs instead, searching for the severest wounds and measuring how capable he was of fighting at the moment.

He twitched his fingertips and toes, pleased when there was minimal pain. He moved his arm above the covering, bringing it to his forehead cautiously, searching for the heat he knew should be there if the fever still thrummed through his body. It was warm, but not too feverish, he noted.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing!"

Sasuke winced. Gods, that loud, annoying voice hurt his head. His head was playing tricks on him again, he knew, because when he opened his eyes, an image that looked similar to Naruto milkily played before hazy eyes. He blinked to clear them.

The blonde entered the room, causing Sasuke to scowl.

Blonde? That hair was _real_.

Sasuke sat up quickly, body tensing as he readied himself for attack, wincing at the dull flood of pain in his abdomen and shoulders. It felt too distant to be natural. He was drugged.

Shit.

"You idiot!" Naruto walked to the edge of the bed, gently taking hold of the brunet's shoulders, pressing on them lightly (Sasuke noticed he did not touch the bandages, where the pain was concentrated. How _thoughtful_. He wanted to sneer at the gesture.) to force them back onto the bed.

"Shizune worked hard on your pathetic carcass. Don't ruin her effort you dirty bastard."

Odd, he felt cleaner than he had in months…

The words swirled around the Uchiha's brain, struggling to settle down so that he could study them more closely and pick out the information they provided him with.

Shizune? Wasn't that Tsunade's assistant?

His head _pounded_.

_He was in **Kohona**_.

**Fuck.**

"Why am I here?" Sasuke's voice sounded foreign even to himself, too deep from the lack of use, thick with the confusion that bled into his voice, sharp with demand.

Naruto sighed, running a hand over his neck absently. Sasuke watched, his gaze intent upon the face, but he had noticed the slight red spots that adorned the throat Naruto now stroked. He had a vague feeling of nervousness upon seeing them, something he couldn't place.

"We couldn't help you anymore at the hospital and couldn't keep you there. Sakura would get upset if she found you."

Sasuke pursed his lips. They were dry, unused. Why did it matter if Sakura found him? Already his mind was forming a plan. He _wasn't_ staying. Itachi was still alive. He would learn nothing here.

He pushed all of this away. He knew why they didn't want Sakura to know. If they were forced to kill him, it would be privately, and they wouldn't want to hurt her any more than they had to. The stupid girl was probably still stuck on him. Idiot. It didn't matter, he didn't care. Either he'd take to the forest or his executor's face would be the last thing he ever saw, a silly girl didn't matter.

He glared at Naruto now as he forced the eye rolling-worthy thoughts away. "Why did you bring me back here?"

Naruto leaned back against the wall next to the nightstand beside the bed with a sigh, his eyes intent upon the window on the other side of the room. He didn't answer Sasuke's question right away, thinking over his reasoning. Sasuke took the opportunity to observe his appearance.

The blonde hair was damp and combed in a hearty attempt at order, but it was still upright and vibrant. It was tinted with red, but that could have been the gentle sunset light in the window, or his still hazy eyesight. His face had become more defined since Sasuke had last seen it, but not sharp like the Uchiha's had gotten. His eyes had narrowed, become more cat-like, slitted and harsh, as though demonic, searing into whatever he looked at. It was from maturity and his demonic chakra, however, not from hate and malice (although the rage from the Kyuubi could have been part of it) as was the case with Sasuke. Shoulders had grown stronger, powerful, encased in a loose t-shirt to hide their strength. Slim hips connected lean, springy legs to a firm stomach and chest, over which his crossed arms lie. Dark pants clad said legs, obscuring them from view. Callused feet were bare on the clean wood, toes curled slightly against the wood as he thought. Past them, carpet dammed outside the room and into the hall.

"I didn't have much of a choice," he said at last, his voice soft and slow, thick like dark molasses. Sasuke let the words wash over him, the tone soothing, the words making him hold back his scowl out of sheer curiosity (which had always been his downfall). One _always_ has a choice. He wanted to say that, but he couldn't. The jutsu was being a pain in the ass again and his head was becoming fuzzy. How long until the damn thing wore off? Better yet, how long had it been _on_?

He was getting tired again.

"Anyway, you should sleep," Naruto said, turning and blinking at him. Sasuke kept his eyes open, even as they begged to close, growling his fatigue away. As though he would sleep in the house of enemy nin. Did they take him for a fool? Never mind that he'd been her for a good long while probably, but it was different now that he was conscious. They might try to kill him, seeing that he was coherent.

"I'm hungry," he said quietly. Perhaps it would give him time to test his surroundings. He might be able to escape while Naruto was out… Who the hell was he kidding? He could sense ANBU within a dozen meters of the house, watching subtly, waiting for him to do something stupid. He'd have to bind his time. However, it felt good to defy the dobe, to have the power to control someone again (after all, it seemed the blonde was in charge of his care.). Besides, he could smell apples again, a scent he remembered from somewhere in his muddling mind.

Naruto turned to look at him, an annoyed look on his face. His expression twisted slightly, with what, Sasuke didn't know, his eyes weren't sharp enough to identify it, before he turned and walked from the room, his feet shuffling on the carpet in the hall.

Sasuke closed his eyes, settling the weight of his head into the pillow beneath it, willing away the swirl of color before his eyes and fog in his mind. His neck relaxed, his spine melting away from stiffness, letting the soft blankets snuggle to his chest. Absently, he ran his fingers over the soft material on his stomach.

He moved instinctually, something in his brain moving before his consciousness did. His hand moved from the fabric, jerking into the air and catching the objected aimed at him with ease. He opened his eyes in annoyance, glaring at the apple that rested in his palm. He grunted at the pain that hissed through his arm, pulling it down as fast as he dared without causing more pain.

"What's this?" Naruto snorted.

"It's an apple, bastard."

The corners of Sasuke's mouth twitched, in a smile or a frown, neither knew.

Suddenly, there was a violent throb in his head. He winced, bringing a hand to his head as his vision jumped and spun. He sat up a bit, the pads of his fingers digging into his newly-cleaned scalp. The other hand tightened possessively on the fruit in his hand, bruising its soft flesh.

Naruto was by his side in an instant. Something small and white was swiped from the nightstand by the blonde.

The throbbing thundered against his skull. He bit back a painful sound as Naruto put a hand on his head, smoothing his hair in a comforting gesture. A sudden spike of sharpness against the back of his eyes made his mouth open lightly in agony. There was a soothing voice in his ear, persistent but sounding forced and worried. Naruto spoke briefly under his breath about 'damn side-effects' and something else that was equally damnable that Sasuke couldn't make out. But the jutsu that had dismembered his mind formerly seemed to return with a vengeance. And after that white, sickening room, (the hospital, he understood) he had begun to feel better. He vaguely noticed the person beside him slip something into his still-open mouth. It was oblong and bitter.

"Swallow it damn you!" His mind came back to itself briefly to hear the distant roar. The voice was insistent, the undertone frantic with worry. Sasuke's mind was hazing over.

Gods, where was he? The pain was snarling through his blood like a wolf on the hunt, attacking everything in its way, its breath fire and its teeth sharp as ice.

Finally, he felt a hand on his jaw. He closed his mouth at the insistent pressure on it, discouraged by its hard clench to try to reopen his jaws to spit out the thing thrust within it. He bit back a wave of nausea it caused. The other hand was at this throat, choking him. No, not choking, applying pressure, rubbing in a way that was more than just uncomfortable. He swallowed, warding away the uncomfortable itch that formed at the rubbing, and the bitter thing slid down his throat.

As it hit his stomach a jolt of pain made a sound hitch in his throat, stopped only by his clenched jaws. His eyes bulged open as something howled through his veins, spreading away from his belly, tearing at his cells. He saw nothing, a blob of sunlight through the window, and darkness crept into the edge of his vision like tendrils of a voice. He clenched his jaw in this startling, more outstanding agony and fell back to the bed.

"I'm so sorry Sasuke, just go back to sleep for now. You know I wont let you die, just hold on. Hey now, just hold on…"

That voice…

This smell…

Where the hell was he…?

* * *

AN: it's been a while since my last update, yes. I got distracted because of a senior project I had to do. –embarrassed grin- I thought it would be _easy_ to write a novel for it. Guess I was wrong :P. anyway, here's the next chapter. I'm going to get to updating my stories as soon as my brain returns to actually functioning correctly so I can write fanfiction again. please enjoy!

And thanks to everyone who reviewed my story! You are the best!

J+


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